


Says Something Like

by GotTheSilver



Category: Set It Up (2018)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: Marriage is just for grown ups, right?  Right.  Or maybe not.*“Harper!” Charlie breaks in.  “Breathe.  I don’t have a ring in my pocket.”“Right, sorry,” Harper says, picking up another glass of wine and downing most of it in one go.  “What about the sweating, you didn’t say anything about the sweating?”“You look beautiful.”
Relationships: Charlie/Harper (Set It Up)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 149
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Says Something Like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovebeyondmeasure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebeyondmeasure/gifts).



> happy yuletide!

“What do you think about all this?” Harper asks as they dance. She can hear Becca laughing with Mike, and she’s struck once again by just how happy Becca sounds. Not that Becca’s ever been truly unhappy, but it seems like the moment she said yes to Mike she reached another level of happiness that Harper’s only ever personally come close to when finding surprise leftover takeout.

“The cover of Iris?” Charlie asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a little obvious but—”

Harper smacks his shoulder and smiles. “No,” she says. “This wedding... stuff. Marriage.”

“What do you think I should think about it?”

“It’s not a trick question,” Harper says as the band starts playing Always Be My Baby. “You know how it is, you’re at a wedding, you start thinking about things, it’s not like I’m asking you to propose, because that would be crazy.”

Charlie stops moving and looks at her. “That’s what you’re going with? It would be crazy? Maybe I should be asking you what you think about weddings.”

“I think they’re for grown ups,” Harper says. “Which we absolutely are not.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Charlie says. “But we kind of are.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Harper, we live together.”

“I lived with Becca,” Harper says, leading Charlie off the dance floor to the bar and grabbing a glass of wine. She throws it back and stares at Charlie. “That means nothing.”

“Unless I got something very wrong, you and Becca were never sleeping together.”

“There was a thing, once, we made out because I wanted to know what kissing a girl was like, but that was it,” Harper says, waving a hand in the air. “But that’s really not the point, Charlie, marriage is for grown ups, and we are—are not grown ups. Am I sweating? I can’t sweat in this dress, I can’t afford to get it dry cleaned, and—”

“Harper!” Charlie breaks in. “Breathe. I don’t have a ring in my pocket.”

“Right, sorry,” Harper says, picking up another glass of wine and downing most of it in one go. “What about the sweating, you didn’t say anything about the sweating?”

“You look beautiful.”

Harper puts the empty glass on the bar and she can feel her face flushing from more than the alcohol. “Charlie.”

“Come here,” he says, holding his arms open, and she goes, pressing her face against his shirt. He smells like home, and beer from where Duncan spilled some on him earlier, and Harper tightens her arms around him until she hears him start to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she says, muffled against his shirt. “I didn’t mean to freak out.”

“You didn’t freak out,” Charlie says quietly. “You just did a Harper.”

Harper pulls away and looks up at him. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, uh—” Charlie offers a sheepish smile. “Duncan came up with it? After the thing with the ice cream and the puppy and Becca’s bachelorette?”

“Doing a Harper?”

“Is this something I need to apologise for?”

“Do you think it’s something you need to apologise for?”

“Okay, that’s definitely a trick question,” Charlie says. “Does it help if I say it’s exceptionally cute when you do it?”

“Slightly,” Harper says, narrowing her eyes. “Go down on me tonight and we’ll see about full forgiveness.”

Charlie laughs, nodding at her. “That, I can do.”

“We’ll see.”

*

“I still can’t believe he’s your boyfriend now,” Dennis says as Harper and Charlie take their seats at the Yankees game. “You could do better.”

“At least I stopped him wearing suits to games,” Harper says, laughing at the look on Charlie’s face. “And I kinda like him.”

Dennis huffs, shaking his head as his attention gets pulled back to the ball field, muttering unflattering things about Charlie under his breath.

“You know, I think I’m growing on him,” Charlie says, passing Harper her nachos. “Like an incurable skin condition.”

“He won’t be happy until you marry me, I mean—fuck, why do I keep doing that?” Harper grabs a handful of nachos and shoves them in her mouth in an attempt to stop talking; she knows from experience it won’t work, but it makes her feel better. Licking the bit of cheese that ended up running down her hand, Harper sits back and sighs. “I don’t mean to—it’s Becca’s fault.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Charlie says, sipping his soda. “And I’m not going to.”

“She’s so happy being married, and that’s good! I want her to be happy! But she’s happy being married, and I start thinking about what that feels like, and since I’m y’know, dating you, you’re the one I end up thinking about when I think about marriage.” Harper takes a breath and lets it out in a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

When she glances over at Charlie, he’s trying to hide a smile, so Harper leans over and kisses his cheek. “What was that for?” he asks.

“I like you,” Harper says, holding out her nachos for Charlie to take some.

“Well,” Charlie says, taking some nachos. “I like you too. You know, those should be our vows.”

“Charlie!”

*

“So,” Charlie says around a mouthful of pizza. “We’re doing pretty well, right?”

Harper pauses in tying her hair up. “Yeah,” she says. “We are.”

“Even though you never have cash,” Charlie says. “And you have this terrible habit of leaving the bathroom light on, so we burn them out more often. Also, you really need to work on your whole thing of leaving bits of food in bed, don’t think I don’t feel the popcorn when I come to bed late.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come to bed late,” Harper says, finishing tying her hair up and grabbing a slice. “Then I wouldn’t be eating popcorn in bed.”

“Yes you would, you’d just drop it on me instead of in the sheets.”

Harper makes a face at him and folds her pizza before biting into it. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that I love you. And we’ve been doing this living together thing successfully—”

“You never buy toilet roll,” Harper interjects. “And you’re always unplugging my phone to charge yours despite the fact that we have a gazillion chargers like any self respecting millennial couple.”

“Jesus, Harper, I’m trying to ask you to marry me,” Charlie blurts out. “Would you just—”

“What? You—what? Marry me?”

“Yes,” Charlie says, digging out a ring box from his pocket. “That trip I took, when I came home to a literal mountain of popcorn in bed, it was to see my grandmother. She always said that when I found someone to put up with me, I should come see her. This was her mom’s ring.”

“Her—a ring? I don’t—”

Charlie opens the ring box and puts it on the table next to the aloe plant they picked up at the farmer’s market a few months ago that’s somehow still going strong. Harper stares at it, not daring to pick it up. It’s old, but not in an ugly way, in a classic way that has her a little scared at how careful she’ll have to be with it. Not that she—marriage, it’s for grown ups, and they’re—.

“Harper?”

“Are you sure? I mean, neither of us can afford to get divorced, so if this doesn’t work out then we’re stuck with each other.”

“I’m okay with that,” Charlie says. “But I’m willing to bet we’ll work out. So, what do you say?”

“I—you’re—” Harper cuts herself off, suddenly noticing the subtle twitch in his jaw. “Are you _nervous_?”

“What? No. Yes. Harper, can you give me an answer here?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’ll marry me or yes, you’ll give me an answer?”

“Oh, yes, the first one. I’ll marry you, I mean, I want to marry you,” Harper says, and it’s like the weirdest feeling settling in her stomach as Charlie smiles at her from across the table. “Wait, does this mean we’re grown ups?”

Charlie laughs, taking the ring out of the box and taking Harper’s hand, sliding it on her finger. “Do you feel grown up?”

“I feel something,” Harper says softly, looking down at her hand, Charlie’s thumb stroking her skin. “I feel... happy. You make me happy.”


End file.
